Page 8 of An Arcane Education
My jaw drops. This can’t be happening. Aside from my responsibilities with my family, the only thing that’s been keeping me from attending a grad program has been the extremely high costs. Even with financial aid, I would need to take out loans. But now I’m being told that not only do I have the chance to attend a magical academy, but the costs are completely covered?
“But why me?”
“Because you have the potential to do extraordinary things if properly trained. Most of our students come from wealthy families, and our school receives significant funding from the greater magical community. So, we do what we can to help out the students who need it most.”
How they know my financial situation, I’m not sure, but I’m not in a position to argue. “That’s incredible,” I breathe. Then, shaking my head, I add, “I’m sorry. I’m a little shocked right now.”
“No worries,” she says with a professional smile. “I’m in my office currently, but I’d be happy to give you a view of campus out my window. If you accept our offer of admission, you’ll also receive an admissions packagein the mail with more information and photos of campus.”
“I would love to see it.”
She turns her computer toward the window to her left, moving it closer until I’m able to see past the glass. The view that greets me is beyond anything I could have anticipated. Paved paths wind through a manicured lawn of dark green grass, snaking to the massive stone buildings scattered in the distance. One stands out among the rest—a massive stone castle built from dark, almost-black stone, with arched stained glass windows at regular intervals along the facade and spires pointing toward the bleak, gray sky.
Other stone buildings in various sizes and shades of gray and black are scattered about the island, and I can just make out the coastline off to one side.
It’s magnificent, like something out of a dark fairy tale.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, awestruck by the vast beauty of what I’m seeing. It feels like too little time before Clara turns the camera back toward herself.
“It is,” she agrees. Then, becoming more serious, she adds, “There’s one more thing you should know.”
“What’s that?”
“Arcadia Academy maintains strict secrecy about its existence and purpose. Magic is dangerous, and the world at large isn’t ready for the knowledge that it exists. Those of us entrusted with this power have a responsibility to protect that secret.”
“So, what would I tell my family?”
“They would need to believe that you are attending a normal graduate program, albeit one that’s rigorous andhands-on. The informational materials we send you will be enchanted to look different to those who do not know of the existence of magic.”
Guilt wells up inside me again, and it’ll only compound if I have to lie to my family about doing something that will already hurt them.
“When would the semester start?”
“Three weeks from today. We would arrange your transportation to the island and provide housing in our graduate residence halls.”
It’s barely enough time to prepare, but maybe that’s better. It’ll give me less time to talk myself out of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Even now, I’m paralyzed by the enormity of the decision but already know what my answer will be—what ithasto be.
If I don’t do this, I’ll never be able to forgive myself or stop wonderingwhat if?
I have to go. There’s no other option.
“Then I’d like to confirm my enrollment,” I state. My heart pounds, but the spark of exhilaration inside of me provides a sense of certainty that this is the right path for me.
Clara beams. “Wonderful! I’ll arrange for your admission materials to be sent immediately, and I’ll email you with some forms to fill out regarding personal and academic information.”
My voice shakes as I smile. “Thank you so much. I’m nervous, but really excited for this opportunity.”
“I think you’ll quickly find that this is where you’re meant to be. Congratulations,” she says, “and welcome to Arcadia Academy.”
CHAPTER 5
My conversation with my mother about my decision to attend Arcadia Academy went about as well as I expected it to. She has spent the last three weeks vacillating between giving me thinly veiled, teary-eyed guilt trips, arguing in hushed tones with Dave about finances and work schedules, and occasionally telling me how proud she is of me for following my dreams. Talk about emotional whiplash.
It’s been a long three weeks, and a small part of me is still partly convinced that this isn’t real. But even so, my heart races as I step off the plane in Seattle, collect my suitcases, and manage to find the car that’s waiting for me in the pickup lane.
This is it. This is really happening.
After a two-hour ride in relative silence with a driver who seems like he’s done this hundreds of times before, we turn down a road with a sign indicating it’s private property, and a few minutes later I’m dropped at a small marina on a bay somewhere on the coast of Washington.Clouds hang heavy in the sky, and the choppy water smacks against the concrete revetment. A group of fifteen or so people stands casually near the dock beside a bright red-and-white sign that reads “Private Charter.”
